


more than okay

by epoenine



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, Enjolras hates himself sometimes, M/M, Self Confidence Issues, Swearing, idk - Freeform, probably idk, self hatred, there's some trigger warnings here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:04:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epoenine/pseuds/epoenine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And it makes him hate himself even more, knowing that he can’t be strong for his friends, or hide the problems he has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	more than okay

**Author's Note:**

> i can't do titles or summaries sorry  
> from the headcanon/au thing on tumblr by attackofthechewenod:
> 
> exr AU where Enjolras has a terrible self-esteem day (because everyone is susceptible to it sometimes) and Grantaire just can’t even fathom this concept  
> but he really wants Enjolras to feel better, so he just starts saying EVERYTHING he can think of to cheer Enjolras up; and because R is so goddamn verbose this turns into a four-fucking page rant that goes off topic a little but is still entirely devoted to how Fucking Fantastic Enjolras is and how he should never feel bad about himself ever  
> and at some point during his enormous, well-meaning monologue he accidentally drops in that he’s in love with Enjolras  
> and Enjolras tries really hard to interrupt and say “i love you too" but R just keeps taLKING, and for the next half hour Enjolras is just smiling to himself and helplessly raising his arm and stopping and starting sentences like hey if you stop for a second i might be able to tell you something a little important you dweeb
> 
> yeah so i couldn't resist doing the thing  
> um it's unbeta'd and written very fast so idk all mistakes are mine  
> im not victor hugo and i don't own les mis or the characters  
> again, attackofthechewenod owns the prompt/headcanon/au thingy

“What’s wrong with Enjolras today?”

He can hear the whisper even from where he sits.

And it makes him hate himself even more, knowing that he can’t be strong for his friends, or hide the problems he has.

So, he only catches bits of what Combeferre whispers back while he’s on the way to the empty kitchen.

“Sometimes he gets like this, I don’t know.”

Because there are even things Combeferre doesn’t know.

Anyways, Enjolras stands in the kitchen, gripping the countertop so hard his knuckles turn white and his breathing speeds up and he’s trying so hard not to make a list of everything that’s wrong with him but he’s failing.

And it really is a long list.

His eyes are closed when he hears footsteps in the quiet room, and Enjolras doesn’t look up. He doesn’t look up because he’s too busy going over the list and feeling the pang every time he sees  _Too naive, too trustworthy, not strong not strong not strong enough._

“Enjolras?” the quiet voice asks him, and he can’t figure out who’s saying it with all of these voices in his head screaming at him.

“Yep,” he says back, only it’s probably really loud and snappy but he can’t really come to care.

Enjolras lets his head fall back, eyes still closed and still gripping the counter.

“You don’t look okay, what’s wrong?” the voice asks, more frantic now.

“I’m fine,” Enjolras insists through clenched teeth, breathing deeply through his nose, how Combeferre taught him the first time this happened.

Though, with as much as Combeferre knows, that was also the last time, too.

“You don’t look fine. Please tell me,” the voice pleads, and Enjolras can smell the familiar scent of old paint and whiskey.

“Grantaire, I’m fine, I promise.” He tries to be reassuring, he really does, but with the way Grantaire is pulling him into his arms and how the crook of Grantaire’s neck fits perfectly with the slope of his nose, well, his voice cracks and he can feel the tears pricking at his eyes.

“You can tell me what’s wrong,” Grantaire whispers into the skin behind Enjolras’ ear, and then he gives in.

Enjolras pulls back from the embrace, his eyes on the floor.

“I hate myself,” Enjolras says, barely audible. “Everything I am and everything I’m not and what people think and expect from me and how I can’t do it because I’m not strong enough I just can’t  _do_  it--”

“Hey--” Grantaire interrupts, and Enjolras can feel his eyes on him, even though he’s not staring back.

Enjolras cuts him off. “And I hate how people depend on me but I don’t want them to not depend on me and I hate being trusted and, God, I just hate  _me_ , I hate how I look and the way I talk and I hate how much power everyone gives me and most of all I hate what I’ve done.”

Grantaire stares at Enjolras, mouth parted slightly.

“And I have everything I want, it’s almost perfect, I shouldn’t be complaining, I’m successful and people put their faith in me and I hate it I hate that they do this I hate that I let them do this I hate myself for doing this,” Enjolras continues, still staring at the ground and blinking back angry tears. “God, it’s so pathetic, too, because I shouldn’t hate myself but I do and then I hate myself even more.”

“Enjolras,” Grantaire starts, “you shouldn’t--Don’t hate yourself, you shouldn’t hate yourself.”

“Why not? It’s true,” Enjolras mumbled, shifting and wiping at his eyes.

“It’s not. I don’t think you should hate yourself because we don’t see you how you see yourself.” Enjolras meets his eyes, and they’re blue and bright and  _believing_. “You’re so...capable. You think you’re not, but you are. You’re determined and you have the most willpower I’ve ever seen in a man.” Grantaire’s voice is soft, it’s a whisper and it cracks on words he means to put emotion behind. “You think you can’t do it but you are, you already are. We give you this power, we depend on you and we put our faith in you and we trust you because we’ve seen you do it. You  _are_ doing it, every time you stand up and start talking, you restore our faith in humanity and in what's coming and what's going to happen.”

“But that’s not--” Enjolras begins, but Grantaire interrupts.

“And your speeches, in front of the crowds, they’re so thought out and intricate because you’re smart, and I know you give over half the credit to Combeferre--even though you write the speeches yourself--because you’re so  _good_. You’re such a good person; you’re also smart, beautiful, fucking fascinating, you’re kind but you’re terrifying, and those are the things I love most about you.”

_What._

He doesn’t voice the question, no, because Enjolras is at a loss for words.

“You’re a leader, you’re determined, and intent, and purposeful, and resolute, and unwavering. You don’t take no for an answer.” Grantaire hesitates, drawing in a breath.

Enjolras clears his throat, starting, “I--” but Grantaire’s talking again.

“And when you’re like that, when you’re standing and screaming with fire in your eyes and passion in your voice, God, you’re beautiful, I don’t know how you can  _not_  like the way you look.” Grantaire’s staring at the ground and motioning with his hands, his eyes slightly unfocused like he’s in a stupor. “Your cheeks get flushed and your voice rises and your hair is messy, but you’re still intimidating, like no one is going to argue with you because they’re scared of all the anger that’s bottled up inside you so beautifully is going to be released on them.”

“If you--” Enjolras tries again, this time with a grin on his face.

“Because you’re so smart, and you prove it when you talk like that, and they  _know_  all of your intelligence will crush them, and you’re fucking scary. You choose your words so carefully but they’re out within seconds, and they’re demanding and harsh and thoughtful. I don’t know how you hate the way you talk, I love it, I could listen to you talk all day if you weren’t so beautiful pissed off.”

Grantaire pauses, so Enjolras takes the chance to try again. “When you said--”

“Everything you do, it’s just so beautiful and enrapturing that we have no other choice but to give you this power. It’s a good thing, not a bad thing.” Enjolras tries to open his mouth, but closes it as Grantaire starts off again. “You just have so much  _hope_ , so we trust you, we trust that you’ll do something with the power you have and we trust that you’ll change the world someday--”

“Grantaire, listen,” Enjolras cuts through Grantaire’s ranting, and the other man falls silent.

“What?”

_Oh_.

Okay.

Now that he’s got Grantaire’s attention, he doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

“Um, when you said--When you were--You said you love me?” Enjolras asks, all of the words coming out in a rush and no proper pauses between them, other than his own incoherence.

“I did?” Grantaire asks, breathy, and Enjolras can imagine he’s out of breath, with all of the talking he did.

“Yeah, um, anyways--”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just that I was rambling and you were upset so I was trying to cheer you up, and I think I got off topic once or twice and said some things I probably shouldn’t have--”

“Grantaire, shut up,” Enjolras says, and then Grantaire snaps his mouth shut, his eyes wide. Enjolras clears his throat, “Um--I just, when you said that--I tried to tell you, but you were still talking, and now you’re not, so, I love you, too.”

Grantaire stays silent.

“Is that okay? If it’s not then that’s okay. I mean, it’s okay if it’s not okay. Which doesn't make sense but please understand." Enjolras stumbles over his words, something he usually doesn’t do.

“Shut up,” Grantaire whines, a slight smile on his face.

“Um.” Enjolras blinks, shifting slightly and realizing how close he is to Grantaire.

“God, yes it’s okay, it’s more than okay,” Grantaire reassures, placing a hand on the back of Enjolras’ neck and leaning forward.

And everything is more than okay, for a little while.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!  
> from me on tumblr at prouvairie and find the person who came up with this idea at attackofthechewenod.tumblr.com


End file.
